


Grande Amore

by AnImperfectParadise



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Baker Dan, Depression, Domestic Violence, Eating Disorder, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Italy, London, M/M, Pianist Dan Howell, Sexual Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, youtuber Phil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-11-14 05:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11201706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnImperfectParadise/pseuds/AnImperfectParadise
Summary: Phil's life has shattered as a result of the death of his best friend, Charlie. Sleepless nights, hollow moods, and dangerous thoughts seem to conquer him. When he decides to take a spontaneous trip to a small seaside town in Italy, Phil starts to realize that there is still hope left- and hope's name is Dan.





	1. Uno

**Author's Note:**

> Phil decides to take a spontaneous trip to the small town of Polignano a Mare, Italy.  
> (Depression and suicidal thoughts)

Phil's dark eyelashes fluttered opened to see a crescent moon staring back at him.  
With a tired groan, he sleepily rolled over to look at the time on his bright iPhone.  
"2:30?" Phil sighed. These days it was getting harder to sleep.  
He knew the move was affecting his sleep- that and the death of his flat mate Charlie, the reason for the flat switch.  
The first couple of weeks, Phil had cried himself into a sleeplike state. After a few months, he decided he needed to leave his apartment in Manchester. So he packed up his bags and moved to the big, bustling city of London.  
Phil liked the constant movement of the large city, the distraction.  
But on dark nights in his secluded apartment, there was nothing to which he could divert his attention. He hadn't realized it was possible, but he had no more tears to shed. So on quiet nights, he listened to the noise of the city below, thoughts racing in his head.

Phil stood up, the bed left by the previous owner creaking under him. He checked his YouTube profile on his laptop, almost smiling at a few of the silly usernames that multiple of his five million subscribers had. They never knew about Charlie's existence, and Phil didn't want to share his depressing story with those who would sympathize but never truly know his pain.  
Phil shook his head, pushing away the dark thoughts flooding through his mind. His flat stomach grumbled- he'd lost an excessive amount of weight after Charlie, something his subscribers had anxiously picked up on.  
Phil ignored it- he liked to know there was a pain he could control.  
Phil decided to watch a few of his old videos.  
"Is this weird?" he asked aloud. He shrugged- did it matter?  
Phil clicked on his most recent video: "INTERNATIONAL TASTE TEST!"  
"Hey guys!" Phil's enthusiasm in his videos was never fake- he made his videos on what his therapist called "happy days." A happy day was when Phil's attitude was less dim and he was able to see potential and happiness. They were happening more often. A year of pain, and Phil had started to heal; that said, nothing would ever ease the pain caused by the death of Charlie.

When Phil next looked at the clock atop his MacBook: 3:25. Phil had fallen down the YouTube spiral and had somehow gotten to a language course; Italian.  
Phil sighed, although he felt just a little better than he had before.  
As Phil listened the soothing voice of the Roman woman, an idea struck him.

Phil had always wanted to travel the world. In fact, Italy was at the top of his list.  
Still listening to the video, Phil opened a new tab and searched for towns in Italy. Eventually, he came an article on Buzzfeed highlighting 15 small towns in Italy. Intrigued, Phil scrolled down the list. One town in particular caught his eye: Polignano a Mare.

"How the hell do you pronounce that?" Phil murmured.  
He looked up the town- and fell in love.  
An hour later, Phil had a flight booked; all by the ungodly hour of half past four.

As Phil finally began to drift off, thoughts buzzed in his head. But they weren't his normal thoughts- these were... good thoughts.  
By the time he eventually fell asleep, Phil was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: excitement.


	2. Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil arrives in Italy after a seemingly endless ride.

As long as he was going, Phil decided he might as well turn his trip into a meet up. Phil tweeted details about the casual meet and greet in Italy, and was pleased to see the amount of happy Italian fans tweeting him.

He needed to pack.

_"Phil, hurry up," Charlie called from the other room. "I told you not to put off packing."_

_Phil  grinned. Despite Charlie's harsh tone, Phil could tell he wasn't irritated; Phil's procrastination skills were admirable!_

_Charlie walked into the room, not even bothering to knock on the door. "Man, hurry up. The cab's gonna be here soon." "_

_**Man** ," Phil replied in a mocking town. "Are you incapable of knocking? I could have been... um-"_

_"Phil, the worst thing I can picture you doing is holding off a live show." Phil snickered. "I'll help you pack, ok?"_

_Phil grinned. "We should probably get a suitcase first..."_

_" **Phil!"**_

Phil stared blankly at the open suitcase in front of him. He inhaled a sharp breath, and unzipped a pocket. A photograph fell out the side, and Phil leaned over to pick it up.

A thin layer of dust coated the picture. Phil gently swiped his finger over the photo, revealing two smiling faces- It was Charlie and him.

Memories flooded into his head. This was the trip they had taken to Florida, where Phil and his family went every year. Phil's mom had taken that photo- she said she had never seen him that happy.

The back of Phil's throat burned, his eyes stinging. He missed those times. His heart ached for his best friend, feeling more empty than it had in a while.

Phil sniffled, and put the photo beside the suitcase.

He needed to pack...

 

***

Phil waited in the airport, drinking a crappy cup of coffee he had bought in a store nearby.

"Waiting for plane! The coffee here is awful- I'm expecting spectacular food when I get to Italy!" Phil read the tweet a couple of times before sending it. He got up and tossed the half-empty cup in a trashcan. The cup landed with a solid _thud_.

After making it through airport security, Phil took an open seat waiting for his departure to be announced. As he scrolled through tumblr, a terrifying realization dawned on him.

"I don't know any Italian!" Phil whispered the startling thought aloud. "Holy shit."

Thus began the desperate googling of important Italian phrases.

" _Grazie tante,"_ Phil tried aloud. "This is not working."

"Just realized I don't speak a word of Italian- great." Phil tweeted about his dilemma just as an American woman announced his flight over the loud speaker.

"Bloody wonderful," he mumbled.

***

Twenty three painfully long hours later, the plane had landed.

Phil eagerly stood up and stretched, as did many of the passengers around him. Flights were never comfortable for someone of his height.

Within twenty minutes of waiting at a bus stop by the Bari airport, a bright orange bus arrived, a tired looking man behind its wheel.

As Phil stepped on, the driver began speaking rapid Italian, resulting in a very wide-eyed Phil.

"Uh, I'm sorry?"

The bus driver grinned. "Oh, I should have known. You do not look Italian- you speak English, no?"

"Er, yeah, sorry," Phil rambled, face reddening.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed! I ask you, have you Euros?"

"Oh, yes!" Phil dug around in his pocket and pulled a few brightly colored bills. "How many?"

The man just smiled and waved his hand. "Put away money, hm? There not many on bus, so not many to get angry, yes? And you seem like nice boy, no? You do not pay today."

"Oh, really, I can pa-"

"Do not worry about it, ok?"

Phil smiled. "Thank you."

"It is no trouble, boy."

Phil sent another grateful smile the bus driver's way.

He took a seat by the window, and as he looked out, any anxiety or stress he had previously felt left him.

This little town was breathtaking.

Phil didn't think about Charlie the entire bus ride.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It means the world. The information I got was all from research, so if I made a mistake, please tell me!  
> xxx


	3. Tre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil decides to go into a small bakery to escape the blistering heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday! My computer wasn't working and writing on a touchscreen is absolute torture. I tried to make this extra long :) I should probably mention that I'm American, so if I misuse an English term, I apologize.

A relatively short ride later, the bus pulled up next to a series of nearly identical tall, white buildings. Phil was impressed by the driver's ability to drive on the incredibly narrow streets; a multitude of tiny cars had come dangerously close to the vehicle on the way here.

Phil stood up and rolled his suitcase along the aisle. As he approached the door, he turned around to ask the bus driver a question. "Excuse me? Uh, where exactly are we?"

The driver looked up and smiled. "Oh, you again! We near hotel, yes? It is short walk, do not worry. I bring you myself, but the street so thin I may get in accident."

Phil was feeling a little overwhelmed at this point, as he hadn't the slightest idea where he was.

The driver must have noticed, as he spoke up and asked Phil, "Do you have address of hotel?"

Phil had put it in his phone, so he nodded. "Uh, yeah."

"Ok, use the online map, yes?"

Phil laughed awkwardly. Of course, Google Maps. He should've thought of that. "Oh right, thank you. I guess I forgot about that."

The man just laughed. "Don't worry. Enjoy your stay!"

"Thanks." Phil hurried off the bus, slightly mortified at his own stupidity. As soon as he stepped of, the heat slapped him in the face. "Christ," he whispered. It must have been at least 25 degrees. The heat was beginning to give him a headache, and the fact that all he had eaten within the past couple of days was a cup of coffee definitely did not help.

A car whirred past him, and he jumped. "Get off the street, moron," he thought to himself.  Noticing the lack of a sidewalk, Phil just stepped closer to the nearest building. He looked up and saw a sign. It read: "Panetteria di Luigi."

Phil had no idea what that meant, but at that point he didn't care if it Satanic rituals were performed there; he wanted to get out of the heat.

Phil opened the doors to the shop to feel a relatively cool breeze produced by a beat up fan in the corner of the room. The sweet smell of sugar wafted throughout the room, and Phil soon realized he was in a bakery. "Holy crap," he whispered. The pastries lined up looked mouthwatering, and if Phil was someone who actually consumed food, he would be tempted to eat them all.

Phil looked around the small room to see two empty tables. There were only two other people in the bakery, and they were behind the counter talking in a rapid Italian. One was kneading dough while the other spoke to him, waving his hands around as he did so.

As he walked over to one of the tables, hoping to get the map set up quickly, the man talking looked up and noticed him.

" _Ciao!"_ he greeted Phil.

Phil's Italian was bad, but he knew the man was saying hello. "Er, _ciao_." Phil replied with an awkward wave.

The man waved him over. " _Benventuo a Panetteria de Luigi. Lo sono Luigi. Come posso aiutarti?"_

Phil stared at him blankly. The boy kneading the dough spoke for the first time and said, without looking up, " _Inglese, Luigi."_

The man grinned. "My friend says you speak English, but it look to me you do not speak at all, no?"

Phil laughed. "Uh, he's right, actually."

The boy looked up quickly. _"Vedere?"_

Phil looked at the boy, and surpressed a gasp. He had only raised his head for a few seconds, but the image was implanted in Phil's head. The boy was probably only a few years younger than Phil, and he had straight brown hair swept to the left side. He had pretty, chocolate eyes and tan skin. He was as tall as Phil and had a lean body.

In short, he was the epitome of beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stars align and Phil actually speaks to Dan.

"No?"

Phil quickly looked away from the boy to see the shorter baker looking at him curiously. He felt his face go red as realized he had been staring at the brunette. "Uh, sorry, what was that?"

"I ask if you are from America." This baker had slightly tanner skin than the other, and was a few years older. He had light brown eyes and a crooked nose. "My name is Mateo."

"Oh, no. I live in Man- London." Not Manchester. London. "Uh, I'm Phil." He was terrible at small talk.

"England?" I have always wanted to go there, you know. Meet the queen." Mateo laughed, but as Phil looked at him, he could see a sadness behind the baker's hazel eyes. An all too familiar longing.

Phil gave a smile. "London is quite nice. It's a lot different than here."

"I can imagine." Mateo nudged the boy beside him, and Phil's heart leapt. Thousands of butterflies buzzed in his stomach. "I tell Dan here about everywhere I want to go."

Dan. So the baker had a name.

Dan looked up, and brushed off his hands. He leaned against the counter, imitating Mateo's pose. Phil was close to having a heart attack. " _Di_ _che stai parlando_ , _Mateo?"_

Mateo looked over at Phil's blank expression and began to laugh. "He wants to know what we talking about."

"Oh."

Mateo turned to Dan. "London."

Dan grinned, a dimple appearing. "Mateo wants to travel the world. He tell me all about England and America." He spoke just loudly enough to be heard, his cool, quiet tone making it impossible for one not to pay attention. It was a bright contrast against Mateo's loud confidence.

Forget butterflies- there were wasps in his stomach.

"Uh, I've been to America quite a few times actually. It's great."

Mateo eyed him. "You have? You go to many places. What do you do?"

"Mateo!" Dan hit him lightly.

" _Cosa!"_

"You cannot ask people you do not know such private things!"

"Ah, but Dan, Phil and I are not strangers. We know each other's names!"

Dan snickered. " _Pazzo._ "

Phil smiled at their brother-like bickering. At the same time, it made his heart hurt. He and Charlie would often argue like that. "It's fine, I don't mind. I'm a YouTuber. I go to the U.S.A. for events liked Vidcon and Playlist."

"A YouTuber?" Mateo looked surprised. "I'm sorry, you just seem so..."

"Quiet? I get that a lot."

"Oh, I didn't mea-"

Phil shrugged. "No, it's fine." It was. Phil didn't have the stereotypical YouTuber attitude- but neither did most.

"You make money off YouTube?" Dan looked confused.

"Uh, yeah." Phil felt so incredibly flustered while talking to Dan, and yet he never wanted the conversation to end. "Once you get a certain amount of subscribers YouTube pays you. The more views and followers you have, the more money you make."

Mateo nodded slowly. "Ok, so how many followers do you have?"

Phil sighed. he hated talking about the money he made and how many followers he had- not that he didn't appreciate them, of course. It was just, sometimes he felt slightly egotistic talking about. "Uh, about five million..." His voice grew quieter as he spoke.

Mateo leaned in. "Five hundred? Impressive."

Dan, on the other hand, had heard Phil correctly and looked awed. "Er, Mateo. He said five _million._ "

" _Che diavolo!"_ Mateo yelled.

Phil began to laugh and felt a blush creeping up his neck. "Uh, sorry?"

Dan grinned. "He don't believe it."

Mateo mouth practically hit the floor. "You are famous! I've been talking to a celebrity!"

"I'm really no-"

" _Dio mio!_ I cannot believe it!"

Phil covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. "It's really not a big deal."

Mateo stared at him. "Five million people! _Million!_ "

Dan giggled. Do men giggle? Phil thought about that for a second. Was it a chuckle? No, he hated that word. It was definitely a giggle.

"Mateo, does the celebrity deserve a free pastry?" Dan looked at Phil mischievously. Phil snickered, although his insides were melting. He felt as if the eye contact between the two of them was enough to make him faint.

"Phil deserves multiple! Go on, pick something."

Crap.

"I'm uh, not really hungry. I had something at the airport. Thanks, though."

Mateo looked slightly mortified. "You are in Italy, no? I am offering you a variety of freshly made treats, and yet you say _airport food_ has you tied over? I do not believe it."

Phil's hands began to sweat. The very thought of eating something made him want to throw up.

Dan took note of Phil's silence and gently said, "Leave him be, Mateo."

If it were socially acceptable, Phil would have climbed over the counter and kissed the ground beneath Dan's feet.

"Uh, thanks, but I should probably get going. I don't want to keep you busy, and I need to find my hotel." Phil ignored the empty pit in stomach.

Mateo waved him off. "The people do not come at this hour. There would be more bakers, no?"

"Uh, I guess?"

"What hotel, Phil?" Dan asked.

Phil looked at Dan, surprised. "Uh, San Tommaso."

"Really?" For whatever reason, this seemed to brighten the gleam in Dan's eyes.

"Um, yeah. Is that a bad thing?"

Oh, no!" Dan said quickly. "It's strange. My brother work there. I bring him something from the shop everyday. You say you do not know where hotel is?"

"I-uh-I- no. No idea."

Dan laughed. "Come with me? We walk there together."

Phil's heart felt as if it was stuck in his throat.

Mateo eyeballed the pair with a raised eyebrow. Dan wasn't one to make an offer like that. Especially not to a stranger. "Uh, Dan? _Vieni qui."_

Dan turned around. "Mateo, _andrà tutto bene. Lui è diverso."_

_"F are attenzione, Dan." _

Dan turned back to Phil. "So?"

Phil didn't know why he felt this way. He felt a certain longing in his chest, the way the ocean longs for the shore. The way the rain wants to fall and the sun yearns to shine. He wanted it the way these words need to be read and unspoken words wish to be sung.

And yet for something he wanted so badly, he had never felt so scared.

Which is why he could barely believe himself when he said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Suggestions are welcome. I promise I'll try to update more often.  
> xxx


	5. Cinque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil learns some rather disappointing news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't make any excuses for a lack of an update.  
> That said, I've been busy doing two online languages (gotta keep those grades up) and I didn't have internet access for about five days. I wanted to kind of outline this story some more and get a good idea of where this is going. I had a lot more written, but then half of this chapter deleted itself. So I wanted to just get SOMETHING up.  
> I also just procrastinate a lot.  
> So all of that crap aside, I'm really sorry and I promise I'll be more on top of my updating schedule.  
> Enjoy!

"Would you like for me to carry suitcase?"

Dan's thick accent interrupted the thoughts swirling around in Phil's head. "Oh, uh- I got it." Dan replied silently with a nod as he started towards the entrance of the bakery. The tiny bell overhead chimed lightly as Dan stepped into the doorway.

" _Ciao!"_ Mateo called out after the pair. Phil acknowledged the goodbye with a half-hearted wave in Mateo's direction. As he rolled his suitcase out onto the narrow street, the intense heat struck him once again.

"Whoa." Phil played with the long sleeves of the shirt he was wearing, the warmth creeping up his arms.

Dan laughed lightly at Phil's reaction. "I suppose the weather not like this in London, no?"  Phil memorized the way he pronounced the city's name, the 'd' dropped and the vowels stretched.

Phil ran his hand through his fringe as he smiled. "Not at all. There's a lot more rain in England." The small talk was killing him, and the social anxiety developed in the time after Charlie's death made his heart pound and his thoughts race.

Fortunately, Dan smiled and continued to walk along, staying close to the similar buildings to his right.

A few moments of companionable silence later, Dan spoke up. "What brings you to Polignano a Mare?"

Phil looked up, slightly startled at the sudden talk. "It's a bit of an embarrassing story, actually." Phil remembered the YouTube spiral he had gone down, his face flushing at the thought of having to explain insomnia to a foreign (and not to mention attractive) baker.

"Go on."

Phil sighed, the reality of having to share the story dawning on him.

"Uh... Alright." He inhaled sharply, the heat, lack of food, and anxiety making everything rush towards him faster and brighter than they normally would.

"Essentially, I..." His vision began to blur slightly, a dizzy, almost sickening wave washing over him. He stumbled slightly, and he could swear the world was spinning.

"Phil? Are you alright?" Dan put a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him away from the cars rushing by and spraying up little bits of dirt.

Phil focused on the ground before him, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he gradually regained the courage to speak. "Yeah, I, uh... I get like that sometimes." He forced a little laugh. "Don't take this the wrong way, but..."

"Should I forget the story?"

Phil let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Please."

"Yes, of course. I am sorry if I p-p... How do you say?"

"Pushed?" Phil felt his heart beat a little faster at Dan's simplicity and quiet kindness.

"Yes, exactly. If I pushed."

"Oh, sure. Don't worry about it."  Phil looked down, but what he had said was sincere. Attacks like that were common for him, although they'd been dying down over the past couple of weeks.

They walked along the thin street, the sounds of vehicles and the tapping of their feet against the road blending in with the chatter of the people in nearby stores.

Phil looked over to Dan, the brunette's eyes fixed on a structure ahead. Phil's gaze traveled to Dan's shirt, his slender arms hidden beneath dark sleeves that extended beyond the wrist, similar to his own. He watched as the boy subconsciously played with the worn hem of the sleeves. Dan suddenly broke away from the building, and Phil quickly moved his stare, hoping Dan hadn't noticed.

A sudden 'ping' broke through the quiet. Dan reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and began to dig around for what Phil assumed to be his phone.

Dan pulled out a relatively new model of the iPhone, although its case was beat and the screen which Dan was tapping away at had a thin, horizontal crack.

"Oh, grand." Dan frowned the phone, his bright eyes dimming.

Phil watched as Dan bit his lip, a nervous tactic which Phil too had developed over the time after Charlie's death. "What is it?"

Dan sighed, but tried to give a small smile. "It is my girlfriend, Laura."

Girlfriend.

Why did one word feel like a million paper cuts on his heart?

Phil felt the ever familiar burning behind his eyes, the suddenly dry throat. He tried to ignore the heat spreading across his face and the empty feeling in his stomach.

Phil swallowed. "Laura?" Somehow he managed an even tone despite his internal breakdown. "That doesn't sound very Italian."

Dan laughed. "She is Italian-American. She the reason I learn English- or try to."

Phil let out a laugh so fake it sounded genuine.

Dan smiled, and Phil's heart yearned to keep that smile in his memory. "She always texting, 'checking in' she says."

Phil's heart beat a thousand times a second. "That's nice."

The other boy sighed. "I suppose."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your kudos and comments keep me going. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please tell me so I can make this story better.  
> Also, 324 hits? WHAAAAAAAAAAT?  
> xxx


	6. Sei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danand Phil have an ecounter with an American couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away! I've had camp for the past few weeks- no internet!   
> Trigger warning: homophobic language

After walking in an awkward silence that lasted for what felt like an eternity, a building that Phil recognized from photos he had seen earlier came into view.

He nudged Dan. The boy looked up, startled. " _Che?_ "

Phil pointed towards the large structure. "That's the hotel, right?"

"Oh, yes." Dan reached over and grabbed Phil's suitcase.

"Wha-"

"The road, it thins out."  Dan explained quickly. Phil looked ahead to see he was right. "Your suitcase, it too close to street. I got it now. Go in front of me."

"Oh. Thanks?"

Dan acknowledged Phil's thanks with a nod. "Now walk faster. You're so slow."

Phil snickered, and looked over his shoulder to see a smirk on Dan's face. "Quiet."

He just heard a giggle in response.

* * *

As the pair pulled up to the large doors of the hotel, Phil looked at the multitude of palm trees that surrounded him. "Um, Dan?"

"Yes?"

Phil began to laugh. "Ok, this is going to sound weird, but can I ask something?"

A smile crept onto Dan's face. "Go ahead."

"Will you take my picture with a palm tree.?"

Dan looked at him blankly. "Uh-"

"No, it's not a weird fetish or anything." The other boy laughed. "I want to tweet a picture to my followers so they know I'm here."

"Ah, ok... It's still strange."

"We don't have palm trees in London."

Dan just laughed. "Go on then."

They walked over to a palm tree that stood by an enormous fountain by the front of the hotel. Phil ran a hand through his likely messed up fringe and pulled a pair of black sunglasses out from his back pocket.

"What on Earth?"

Phil tried not to laugh. "It has to be aesthetically pleasing!" He put the glasses on his face, and handed Dan his phone. "I assume you know how to use the camera?"

Dan sighed mockingly. "Yes, of course."

"Ok, ok."

He reached out and pretended to hug the tree, thinking of a caption he could use later on. This action earned a loud giggle from Dan.

As Dan took the photo, Phil could see a clearly American couple walking by.

"A few more," Dan said.

"Fags!"

Phil froze and quickly dropped his arms. His face went even paler. Dan looked at him, confused. "What's wrong? What did he say? Phil?"

Phil didn't respond. He looked over to where the insult had come from to see the American man laughing. Phil smiled at him. He then rose his hand high in the air and flipped the guy off.

"Phil!"

Phil ignored Dan, and instead watched angrily as the man and his girl friend walked over, the guy clearly upset.

Dan put a hand on Phil's arm. "Phil, talk with me?"

Phil shook his hand off and turned to the other boy. "Stay here."

Ignoring Dan's protests, he walked over until he and the couple were just a few feet apart.

"What the hell, bro?" The American guy gave Phil a light shove backwards.

"I could say the same for you." Phil could feel anger bubbling in his stomach.

"Chill. It was just a joke."

Phil balled up his fists. "Well, it wasn't very funny."

At this point, Dan had walked over. He stood next to Phil, the suitcase just separating them. "Phil?" Dan whispered lightly. " _Andiamo._ Let's go. Please."

The man laughed. "Ain't my fault you and your boyfriend can't take a joke."

Dan looked at Phil blankly. "What he saying?"

Phil inhaled sharply. He took a step closer. "Back off," he hissed. "And he's not my boyfriend."

"Woah man. You need to calm down."

"You need to watch your mouth."

Just as the man was about to speak, his girlfriend quickly stepped in. "Hey, I recognize you!"

_Jesus Christ._

"You're that YouTuber! That one people keep talking about!"

Phil's heart dropped.

Dan shook his arm, urging him to go back. Phil wished he could tell Dan what was happening.

"My boyfriend's right," the woman said. "You are a f-"

Phil turned around and began to walk away. The fact that an awful conversation like that could happen was a bad enough reality on its own. But with him?

He could hear Dan apologizing to the couple. He spun around and grabbed his arm. "Don't apologize, Dan."

"But wh-"

"Just don't!" Phil snapped.

"Ooh! Careful Princess! Don't want your prince to leave you, now do we?"

It took everything Phil had not to turn around and smack the man.

* * *

"Phil?" The two were approaching the large doors. "What happened? Did I do something?"

 Phil turned around, heat spreading across his skin. "Nothing happened, Dan. Nothing at all."

Dan reached out and put his hands on Phil's shoulders.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Why do you lie?" Dan looked at him, his brown eyes melting Phil's heart.

"I... I'm not lying."

"And yet you cry?" Dan wiped away a tear that ran down Phil's cheek. "Sad is not your color."

Phil smiled and let out a quiet laugh.

"Smile more Phil."

He just nodded in reply.

"Please?"

Phil's heart ached as Dan looked at him hopefully.

"Ok, ok."

Dan clapped, giddy. "Talk with me when you ready. Now let's check in." He gave Phil a quick smile.

It looked familiar.

Dan's smile didn't reach his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos/comments mean the world.


	7. Sette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bathroom break that doesn't end up in the bathroom.  
> \--trigger warning-- somewhat graphic description of blood and death. I will put asterisks around the section. I gotcha, fam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry that it's been so long. I've honestly been so busy with school and soccer and I feel awful. This chapter is probably going to feel a little half-assed and rushed, but I'm dying to get something up and done. I'm going to try to get another chapter up this month as well. Thank you to my friend (you know who your are <3) for pushing me to do this. Also, my sincerest apologies for any and all mistakes! I really hope you guys enjoy this. Xxx

As Dan talked with the man behind the checkin desk, Phil pulled out his phone and looked at the photos Dan had taken.

The lighting was wonderful, the palm tree looked beautiful, and Phil looked happy. With a funny caption, the picture would be perfect.

And yet tweeting it hurt.

Obviously Phil knew it was because of the American couple. Looking at the picture made him think of having to talk to Dan, a thought that filled him with dread.

A tap on his shoulder pulled Phil out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Dan besides a man with olive skin and green eyes, and hair the color of a brisk November night.

"Phil, this is Gabriele. He is my brother." As soon as Dan said it, the pieces fell into place. The long, lanky limbs, the toned skin, the slight wave in their hair. The most prominent difference, however, were the laugh lines that framed Gabriele's face yet Dan seemed to lack.

Phil awkwardly adjusted his luggage to the left side of his body, stretching out a hand for Gabriele to shake. "Nice to meet you," he said quietly.

Gabriel accepted his hand, his grip firm but welcoming. "The pleasure's mine," he replied in a perfect American accent. Phil's face must've displayed his surprise, as he quickly cut in, "Dan and I are both half-American- maternal side, that is. I was born and raised in America for seven years. Dan was too lazy to learn the language until he met a pretty girl." He laughed as said it, but Phil could've sworn he sensed a trace of bitterness behind the words.

Dan nudged his brother in the side. "Uh, yes... Anyways, here are the cannolis, Gabe." Dan quickly handed him the box, a sweet smell secreting from the box, making Phil's mouth water.

"Oh, good! My lunch break's almost here," he responded with ease. "Phil, your room will be ready in an hour or so. Perhaps Dan could give you a tour?"

Gabe's words barely registered in his head. God, when was the last time he'd eaten?

"Phil?"

Tiny dots of darkness invaded his peripheral vision as he held on tighter to the suitcase by his side. _Please, don't let this happen_ , he thought to himself. _I can't fucking pass out in the middle of some foreign hotel._

"Phil...?"

He couldn't eat. He couldn't... _betray_ Charlie like that. But he felt so empty, so num-

" _Phil!"_

Phil, jumped, startled. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I-I got distracted, I suppose... "

Gabe laughed, gently punching Phil's shoulder in a brotherly manner. "See we've got a spacey one. You're just like Dan."

Dan looked up, quickly giving a tight smile. "Right... Er, you know, I need to use the.. th-"

"Bathroom?" Gabriele supplied.

"Yes, yes. Bathroom." He switched his gaze towards Phil. "I think you must too?"

The sentence came out as a question, but read as a request. Phil gave Dan a small, but grateful, look. "Yes," he responded softly.

" _Gabe,_ _torneremo tra poco_ _, ok?"_

"Ok, Dan. _Whatever_ you say," he said with a wink.

Dan rolled his eyes, and pulled Phil away from his baggage and down a sunlit corridor. "There's a bathroom down here?" he inquired as they approached tall, polished glass windows.

"No."

"Wait, wher-" Phil's breath stopped as Dan guided him past a tall archway and into a courtyard. The garden was filled with breathtaking flowers, and a fountain stood in the center with sunlight bouncing off its crystal waters. A cobblestone pathway led to a marble bench that resided by Jasmine flowers nestled in a sea of smooth stones. The flowers' dazzling aroma lifted up and danced in the air surrounding the pair.

"Wow," Phil breathed as he sat down on the surprisingly cool bench.

"I know," Dan said with a smile. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, it is..." Phil managed to tear his eyes away from the ocean of stems and petals to Dan. To his surprise, the other boy was looking straight at him, his warm brown eyes glittering beneath the Italian sun.

Dan reached down and picked up one of the of the perfectly white flowers and twirled it between his fingers. " _Gelsomino,"_ he said. "Jasmine. Do you know what it means?"

God, Phil felt like he was in a movie. And he never wanted to leave this theatre. "No," he said gingerly, not daring to disturb to gentle mood.

"Jasmine is a flower that pair with love. In other country, people say it symbolize sex and good luck. It is brilliant, is it not?"

Phil nodded, mesmerized by Dan's easy tone. "It's really quite lovely."

Dan nodded. "Yes, lovely. What if I tell you that some Jasmine flowers will kill you?"

Phil sat up, shocked by the abrupt turn of the conversation. "Sorry?" He quickly stood up, the air between them growing tense.

Dan's eyes softened. "Oh, I am sorry. I do not mean to scare you." He moved closer to Phil. "Sit down," he whispered gently.

Phil obliged more carefully this time, although again under Dan's spell. "Go on," he urged, quietly.

He continued with a quiet calmness. "Some Jasmine flowers are toxic. They kill you. Surprising, no?"

Phil nodded, although slightly confused. "You're not going to kill me, right? Although if you are, this is a nice place to do it."

Dan laughed, his eyes brightening. He seemed taken aback by Phil's humor, but most were. "No, but I keep that in mind."

Phil laughed and moved in closer to Dan. "You were saying..?"

"Right. Think, Phil. And do not.. l-l-lie, is the word?"

Phil nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

"Lie. Do not lie. What in your life is a Jasmine flower?"

Phil looked at Dan, surprised. Not surprised at Dan's inquisitiveness, but surprised by his own urge to want to tell him. "Do.. do you really want to know?"

Dan nodded. "Yes, I really do."

Phil looked away. "O-ok, then." He took a deep breath and spun a small pebble in his hand.

"His name is- was Charlie. We lived together. Best friends, roommates. Practically brothers." He paused momentarily to glance at Dan, who was nodding as he followed the other's words. "We did just about everything together. Saw movies, read the same books... ate the same foods." Phil scratched the back of his head, his throat starting to choke up. "He was so kind and funny. My mum used to joke that he did more around her house when we would visit than I did. Wasn't wrong, either.

 "Anyways, he had a niece named Sarah. Charlie's sister was going through a rough divorce. Sarah, she would listen to music to help her get through it. She loved all these strong female singers, especially Ariana Grande." Phil's voice broke off as he recalled the next events.

 "it was her 10th birthday. Her dirt bag father dropped the poor girl off with Charlie and me for the day- not that either of us minded, of course." Phil gave a breathy laugh. "I swear, Charlie loved that girl more than he loved me.

"He was so excited to give her his presents- tickets for the two of them to see Ariana Grande in Manchester the next night."

"Oh my God," Dan whispered.

Phil continued, his body beginning to shake with silent sobs. "I get a call at 1 in the morning. And I just knew, Dan. I just knew that something was wrong.

*******"I had to identify the body." His voice cracked, his words coming out in patches. "He was so beautiful, Dan. He managed to look at peace holding Sarah in his arms. He saved her. The glass, the debris, it hit him instead. The blood was drying on his face, and his shirt was soaked and torn in countless places.************

He took a ragged breath. "It's terrible. It's so fucking awful. It hurts. And, God, I wish it had been Sarah. I wish God had taken her and _not_ him. And I know that's horrible, and I know that I should care, but I don't. I don't."

He sniffled, attempting to recollect himself. "You know, we were supposed to go out to eat at some place Charlie had been dying to visit. He made reservations at the place."

Dan broke in quietly. "Is that why you do not eat? Is that why your clothes hang off your bones?"

Phil nodded, wiping tears away. "Charlie is my Jasmine flower, Dan. And I miss the toxicity every single day."

"I'm sorry." Dan leaned forward and brushed away Phil's tears. "Do not cry, Phil. Your eyes get lost in the tears. I'll miss your eyes."

Phil managed to break a smile. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Phil." Dan leaned forward, and Phil's breath caught. His already aching heart began to again yearn for something more. He felt what he felt before with Charlie, the feelings that's he'd pushed away suddenly stirring again. Oh God, was Dan going to ki-

The brunette brushed Phil's hair out of his eyes. "Let's go back," he urged gently. "This bathroom break is bit too long."

Phil snickered, his feelings managing to melt away. "I agree."

As the pair stood up and walked back into the building, Dan turned to Phil. "I.. I eat with my brother when he has his lunch break. Maybe... maybe you like to join me? Us?"

Phil's heart stopped. "Do I need to eat?" he whispered carefully.

Dan's mouth turned upwards. "Not a thing," he replied gently.

"Ok," he said, looking up to Dan.

"Ok," Dan whispered, looking back at Phil.

 _Ok,_ Phil thought. _Ok._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Ship. It. Please comment any and all feedback! And let me know if you want me to translate.


	8. Otto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--trigger warning-- Relatively graphic descriptions of abuse, self harm, and mild homophobia. if this triggers you, I'd recommend staying away from this chapter.  
> A lot of this chapter is from Dan's perspective! I thought a switch would be refreshing. Although, I wouldn't necessarily call this refreshing...

My _madre_ was born on the outskirts of Connecticut, born and raised in a small town called Cheshire. _Mamma_ grew up poor, her family constantly struggling to meet end's meet. She tells Gabriele and me how she'd always dreamed of a better life, one of luxury and travel, of leisure and foreign affairs. So when my _padre_ came in and whisked her off her feet, it's no surprise that she fell in love.

That's what she says, anyways.

I think she was desperate. Desperate to escape the underwater family drowning in debt, drugs, and scars. Desperate for anybody to rescue her. I suppose I can understand that. But my childhood was a fatherless one. _Papa_ spent his waking hours at the fish pier, hauling hundreds of thousands of pounds of nameless fish just to make a few euros that he'd spend on countless drinks during the night.

I can't say I blame him, truth be told. People come to Italy, but they never leave the beach, they never leave the resort. They don't turn on the news to pictures of dying immigrants, a country in debt, to terrorism. They don't sleep with an eye open, their heart pounding at the thought of a nearby attack in the middle of the night.

So my papa dragged my mamma here. But she's too blinded by something she calls love to realize that.

But what do I know about love?

Mamma always says I write English better than I speak it. I call bull on that, and by "I," I mean Laura who has somehow attained the right to speak for me. Laura called my English "fucking shit," so I prefer to stay quiet around most foreigners. I believe everything she says, after all. She loves me, no matter what others try to tell me.

Mateo says her constant texting is creepy. I tell him it's because she cares, it's because she loves me.

He says she's too rough with me, and I tell him she's just touchy, that's all.

He says that love doesn't hurt, and I tell him beauty is pain.

Today, the heat in the bakery was sweltering. Absentmindedly, I had rolled up my sleeves, beads of sweat budding on my hairline.

_Mateo lugged in a fan from the back room, cheering as he pulled it in. "I am the bringer of all things good!" he called out triumphantly._

_A smiles escaped me as I reached out to high-five his outstretched hand._

_It was my fault._

_I acted without thinking._

_Mateo's smiled faded quickly. "Dan..." he whispered, grabbing one of my wrists. His touch is gentle and nothing like the one I know so well._

_Somehow, I manage to choke out, "Yes?" I'll play dumb, I decide._

_Laura says I don't need to pretend to do that._

_Mateo looks around, and for once I'm grateful that nobody's decided to show up. He lowers his voice as he inquires, "Did she do it again?"_

_I lower my eyes. "Yes," I reply quietly._

My arms are littered up and down with lines from her long nails, from bruises that she gave me last night.

I keep telling her I don't want to... do anything with her. I don't know why- I've just never wanted to do it with anybody.

She doesn't listen. She yells, tells me I'm worthless. I've learned from past mistakes to keep in the tears, but God, it's fucking hard. It's not the slaps against the face or the cuts on the lips. It's not the bruises between my legs or the scars that snake up and down my torso.

It's the numbness I feel after it happens, lying in bed with nothing but a sheet over me, looking up through the skylight over my head and trying to smile when she tells me loves me as she traces shapes of my chest. Because it's times like those where I wonder, does real love hurt?

Does it force you to drag the razor you've never had to properly use over your stomach?

Does it make you sob silent tears into the bathroom at work, to force yourself throw up because you know you're not good enough?

Does it call you fag (I still don't know what that means), a cunt, a "fucking moron," a waste of space, a twat?

It must.

Because I'm in love with Laura, and she's in love with me.

Sex is a part of that, right?

She says if I don't want that, then... I've said what happens.

_Mateo listens to me, rubbing his hand up and down my back. "Dan..." he begins._

_I shake my head, and turn my back towards the dough that I was rolling out. "It's fine," I say softly, again speaking in Italian. "What are you gonna do?" I say it with a smile that even I know is fake. But I'm too tired to try. I can feel his eyes boring into my back, and it takes all of me to ignore them._

Laura and I have a unique bond. Others don't understand it.

Maybe one day they will.

Maybe one day, _I_ will.

Italy's not all it's made up to be.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes! I wasn't able to review this chapter :( But I hope you all enjoyed!  
> If you or anybody you know is in a dangerous relationship, please call this number or go to their website: 1-877-988-5559 or http://houseofruthinc.org/?gclid=CjwKCAiAmb7RBRATEiwA7kS8VHSXTLkR4mhrJhKGlyQoHhUcXbI-TTiGgr6KDc7X5cVUG3dhdNdTlBoCahIQAvD_BwE ;  
> It gets better and I promise, it's not always going to be like this. Stay strong. Xxx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! This is my first fan fiction, so sorry if there are any mistakes. If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them as this work may tend to get a little confusing.


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